


Just a little longer

by Darkandcrazyangel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkandcrazyangel/pseuds/Darkandcrazyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was waiting for John to return.  He didn't believe that his best friend was dead. He wouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a little longer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this filled promp here. This is set to be a continuation so please read the prompt first.
> 
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=127313089#t127313089
> 
> please be warned that the happy ending I have here may not be seen as a happy ending by some

Three years later and Sherlock was still waiting. He'd managed to convince himself that John wouldn't come home until he lost hope, but Sherlock wasn't going to. He waited each day patiently for his friend to return and carried on with his life leaving the chair ready and waiting for the day of John's return. John was a the nicest person he knew but it was true he had pushed the man too far and so it was his turn, his duty, to wait. Lestrade still came by and never said a word about Sherlock's insistence that John was not dead. He had tried many times and had even tried to convince Sherlock to see someone, but there was nothing for it, and so with a heavy heart the inspector let it go. Sherlock was still functioning, still going about his life the way he would had John truly only been a a temporary trip. The minute Sherlock realized John wasn't coming back he feared what would happen , but he wasn't certain he could do anything to solve it and so years passed, and Sherlock grew older firmly stuck in that one delusion.

It was on a rather cold day thirty years later that Lestrade visited him in his cottage on the anniversary of John's death. Sherlock had retired and taken to caring for bees. The now old man was curled up in John's chair which had moved with him. He was wearing one of John's jumpers and staring at a mug of tea long gone cold, a ritual Greg had become familiar with. The mug would stay there for days with the cold tea before it was poured down the sink and a fresh cup made to replace it, yet Sherlock would never drink from it. If he wanted tea he would make his own cup poured into fine china rather than a mug as if the mere use of mugs was exclusively saved for John. Today was different though. The mug was in Sherlock's hands rather than on the table and Sherlock was smiling sadly at it fingers tapping at its side. Lestrade took his seat without a word and waited for Sherlock to acknowledge him.

"He's not coming back," Sherlock said softly and Lestrade felt his insides jolt at the declaration alone. He thought Sherlock had finally accepted John's death when Sherlock continued. "No doubt he has lived happily elsewhere. Moved on from me and achieved the life he deserves."

"Sherlock," Lestrade said wanting so badly to convince this man that there was nothing wrong with him. John hadn't left because Sherlock was wrong in some way. John would never do that to Sherlock. "You said it yourself. He wasn't cruel. He would never leave you like this. He's been dead for a very long time. He cared so much for you and he died caring." He could see from the way Sherlock continued tapping the cup facial expression unchanging that his words had done nothing. He hadn't expected them to.

"He is a kind man, but I am not. He isn't being cruel. He's being smart, and I do not hold that against him. I am glad he found something so worthwhile as to stay away." Lestrade swallowed and sighed. He wasn't going to try again. He had promised himself he wasn't going to try again. This man who was so firmly set in his delusion could never be swayed, but when Sherlock had said what he had Lestrade couldn't help himself. He composed himself once more with a deep breath in. He stayed forcefully silent and got up to make tea and push down the burning sadness swelling in his gut. Even so he couldn't bring himself to leave that day like he had originally planned and instead chose to stay the night in one of the guest rooms Sherlock had. His dreams were filled with Sherlock and John from years ago running around London and so pleased with life that they smiled and laughed even when bodies lay at their feet. Because that was them, and their hearts thrived on the adventure and the thrill of cheating death until you couldn't cheat it anymore.

Below him still curled up in John's chair Sherlock fell prey to a sleep of his own. His head lifted at the the sound of footsteps and he blinked in surprise at the form before him. John stood clad in the clothes he had worn on the day he died and looking just as young. His smile was soft and small and his form subdued. He knelt down next to Sherlock and his smile widened.

"Hey," he greeted softly. Sherlock blinked seeing if the image would leave him before reaching out and John took the hand in his own. The sensation of warmth and solidity startled Sherlock into opening his mouth and trying to speak. A small croak was all he got and he closed his mouth to swallow before trying once more.

"I'm waiting, John," he finally pushed out. This had to be a dream no matter how vivid it may be.

"I know," John said and reached up brushing his thumb over Sherlock's cheek, "You can stop now." He stepped back and tugged on Sherlock's arm coaxing him to stand.

"I don't blame you," Sherlock blurted out and John's smile grew sad.

"Sherlock," John said and his gaze turned to the chair. Sherlock's eyes followed John's to see his curled up form still in the chair yet his chest was unmoving. His mind took in the scene and turned back to John cataloging and deducing. He felt everything click into place and a smile of his own claimed him.

"That's fine," he said turning back to look at John. He squeezed his friends hand and smiled brighter. "I fear you'll have to lead me this time." John nodded ever so slightly before tugging him as he stepped forward. The two souls both faded from the room as the great detective was lead by his trusted blogger. His waiting finally giving him what he had waited for.


End file.
